Star Crossed Hearts
by The Princess and the Duck
Summary: Every summer Bella leaves the keen eye of her mother to visit her father. While Bella usually spends her summer reading and day dreaming in her father's library, she will soon find that life can be just as magical when she meets an intriguing figure.
1. Prologue

Star-Crossed Hearts

A Twilight fan-fiction. All rights reserved to the lovely Stephenie Meyers

**

* * *

Prologue**

Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do.

Sometimes we really don't have a choice.

Sometimes I would really like to meet whomever came up with those ridiculous excuses and punch him in the face.

There is _always_ a choice, even if we don't immediately notice it.

On nights like these I stare up into the stars and wonder how exactly I got here...how I made it this far.

It was my fault. I know.

My choices led to my situation...but at this point, I could really care less.

Up there in that dark abyss, I can see the three great stars that form a line in the sky. Bright, straight, and permanent is this formation. They never change positions; only our ever-spinning world changes her view of them.

"Orion's Belt" is what he said they were called.

_Him._

It's silly how little dots of lights in the sky could make me think of him.

But lately everything seems to remind me of him.

Was he really real? Or was everything that happened just a dream?

I know. I know. How introspective I sound!

But that's how I've always been.

My mom says I have an old soul full of wisdom, with a heart of a child.

That's my problem. When I love, I give my everything. I serve my heart on a platter, completely bared for the receiver to do as he pleases. Rosalie says I'm just too innocent to know the consequences...but she's wrong, I do know the consequences.

Until him, I never gave my heart to anyone.

My old soul would always rationalize a plethora of reasons for rejection. If a man showed interest in me, my mind would suddenly rush to find something to scrutinize. If I couldn't find anything, I would let myself slowly start to fall for him. Then, without warning, I would wake up to reality. I would notice my guard lowering, so I would do what any insecure and scared woman naturally does: I would instantly doubt myself. I would think I wasn't worthy enough for him, nit pick at my appearance or make up flaws, and then avoid him in order to hide these "flaws" from him.

This is the point where I wish I could chastise my overly active imagination...I would, (and this is really pointless, I know) make myself actually believe that if he really cared for me, he would be stubborn enough to pursue me and somehow know to tell me that I _was_ worthy of him!

How incredibly ridiculous of me.

But that's what I would do.

And you know what?

Every man would do what a man thinks is the natural and respectful thing to do: he would what we call 'take a hint' and believe I no longer cared for him, so he would respect 'my wishes' and leave me alone.

And my heart would be cracked and full of disappointment in both him and myself.

Once again, I would avoid a broken heart. An injured heart, but nonetheless, it is safer than a shattered heart...yet it still hurts.

No one would ever notice my disappointment. I've found that people appreciate a temperament of happiness more than having to tolerate of temperament of bitter complaining and needy advise-seeking. That's why I'm adored by all. I smile and laugh and never let anything phase me. Friends seek my advise, my open arms for a comforting embrace, or a shoulder to cry on. I have no problems so I spend my life selflessly aiding others.

At least, that's my reputation.

My name is Bella Juliet Swan and I honestly do have problems just like anyone else. I only choose to quickly be done with them and withdraw back into my imagination of a world in which those smiles on my face are always genuine and I don't have to guard my heart. Into a world where I'm not afraid of hurting another's feelings just by expressing my honest opinion instead of staying silent. A world where I can ride all day long and feel the wind in my hair and the sun enveloping me in a blanket of warmth. A world where I can dance all night in the arms of my true love and kiss passionately in front of those who oppose our love. A world that once could be have been real, but now only exists as a memory for me to endlessly enjoy and revisit. A world that I once shared with him.

_Him_.

Edward Romeo Cullen.

The man who I chose to give my heart to.

And the man who shattered it forever.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

On days like these I can't help but wander outside. The ever-watching warm sun plays hide and seek with the white puffy clouds passing by overhead. The gentle breeze ruffles my hair and the pollen surfing its current tickles my nose. I can smell the sweet scents of the newly bloomed flowers that blanket our garden in shades of deep blues, rich reds, and bright yellows. The echoing sound of the rumbling stream snaking through the valley and the whining of the horses aching to stretch there muscles permeate the natural hum. It's on days like these that I wish I were still a child.

Society doesn't think twice of a child who runs around through the dirt in her bare feet. A child who tumbles in the grass and once home, leaves and branches must be picked out of her hair. A child who explores the brush to find little critters to bring home to show her family. However, God forbid if a young woman was to come home in such a manner! People would cry scandal and demand the name of the man who sullied her purity. She would be shunned and hidden away at some convent never to be seen again all because of a misunderstanding. Poor thing was only trying to aid her free spirit and she was punished! However her fate was her own choice because she was not clever enough to avoid being caught.

I, Bella Juliet Swan, have never been caught.

I like to think that I consider myself a free spirit. I do run outside in my bare feet with my hair let down and blown by the wind. I do dig up the earth with my ungloved hands and find buried treasure which I hide away under the floor boards of my room. I do sneak out at night and spy on secret meetings of the unlawful. On more than one occasion I have even heard such sinister secrets so dark that I've had to make a hasty getaway in order to not be influence by their evil ideals. I have outwitted pirates and explored a cave rumored once to have homed legendary beast. I have swam and sung along with sirens and howled with wolves. I have done all this and more.

All from the comfort of the old mahogany carved chair in our library.

Yes, you're correct. In reality I have done none of those things. I sit and sew with the other women and stay silent when spoken to. I feed the horses and on special occasions I am allowed to brush their luscious mane. My mother believes that I am too clumsy to be able to get on a horse let alone actually ride one. It's sad but true. I am found to be very humorous due to the fact that I frequently trip on air. It happens. I'm clumsy. Therefore riding horses are off-limit. I've accepted that fact and moved on.

But I have ridden a horse before! At least, in my imagination. I've actually ridden to war along side the legendary crusaders in the heart of the holy city of Jerusalem and have massacred hundreds of evil Turks in the name of my Lord. No man could out run the speed of me and my noble steed. Once inside the city I rode to the top of the steps of holy synagogue at the heart of the city. The moment I got there I gracefully dismounted my trusted companion approached the great white marble doors, pushed them open with my extraordinary strength and-

"Bella?" a voice inquires.

I look up to see two large brown eyes creased with worry lines staring at my hands.

"Bella, dear, it seems you pricked your finger. Is everything all right?" she inquires.

"Yes mother," I sigh, "I was only daydreaming. Don't worry it's just a small puncture. I didn't even notice!" I tried to smile encouraging in order to ease her flustered state. Unfortunately the word 'calm' has never belonged in Renee Dwyer's vocabulary.

"You need get your head out of the clouds sweetheart," Renee grimaces, "With your luck you could bleed to death and not even notice, all because of sewing a little patch into the table cloth!"

I can feel my cheeks warm to a pink tint. "Forgive me mother, it won't happen again. Shall I go and begin to prepare supper?" I quickly send up a silent prayer that she would agree. Sewing has never been one of my favorite activities to partake in. In fact, sewing is my least favorite things to do and I'm obviously not very good at it. I only do it to please Renee who believes a woman isn't a woman until she learns to sew. How disappointed she must be to have me as a daughter.

Mother hesitates. "Well," she ponders as I gaze up at her in what I hope appears to be innocent adoration and eagerness, "if you're feeling up to it, I don't see why not."

Barely able to conceal my relief, I swiftly set aside the patch work I had been struggling with earlier and smile back up at my mother. Still tense with a mother's unnecessary worry, Renee stared back at me. Closing the space between us, I embrace her soft frame, my nose filled with her sweet scent of lavender and soap.

"Mother," I begin as I loosen my hold around her to look up into her familiar large brown eyes that mirror my own, "You need to loosen up and stop worrying about me! I'm 17 after all, I'm not a baby!"

With that I lightly pecked her on the cheek and headed to the kitchen to begin my preparations for supper, all the while aware of her watchful eyes scrutinizing my every move. Her attention both thrilled me and terrified me. Renee has never been interested in any action I partook in, especially noticing such a minor detail as the minuscule problem of pricking my finger. The act of pricking my finger while sewing is such a natural occurrence it still amazes me that I haven't suddenly fallen under a deep sleep in which I can only be woken by my true loves first kiss. Oh well, a girl can dream right?

I wonder what caused her to be so attentive? Before I give the wheels in my imagination a chance to turn, I file away the conversation for later speculation and focus my entire attention on the preparation of supper. Surprisingly, cooking is the only action that I have ever given my full attention. It's probably because if I don't pay attention, there is always the chance of food poisoning later on. I'd rather not have to deal with that in general. It's just not worth it. Trust me.

* * *

Renee and I live on the estate of Sir Philippe Dwyer, my mother's most recent husband. Sir Philippe, a man 7 years younger than my mother, is very actively involved in the newly formed men's fencing club and is often away on travel for various tournaments. Renee is never the same in his absence. She acts quite moody and although attempts to busy herself in various hobbies such as gardening, painting, and sewing, she never seems very happy without him.

Sir Philippe is very kind to me considering I'm not his daughter. Believe it or not, I'm actually the only proof that my mother once acted very spontaneous and ran away to marry Charles Swan, the sheriff of a small village called Forkson. According to Renee, they were both very young and too naive to understand the consequences of their actions, and after a year she realized that love alone could not raise a family, so pregnant with me, she left him.

Every summer Renee sends me to visit poor Charles. Although I've never asked, I can tell my father truly loved my mother and her abandonment deeply affected him. He's never remarried and still lives in the same small cottage he and Renee built together. I honestly look forward to my annual visit with him. It seems Charles and I have very similar personalities and much prefer comfortable silence then awkward small talk. Plus, he doesn't force me to partake in any activity I don't want to do. While Renee would quite enjoy having me endure the cruel task of sewing for days at a time, Charles just lets me do as I please. Renee who would be outraged at the amount of free time I spend in his library reading, but Charles just seems content in the fact that there is a female presence in the house. I try to show him my gratitude by cooking for him, but then feeling guilty he'll occasionally bring home a new book for me to read. These little gestures are the only affection Charles expresses. I don't mind it though. Expressing emotions has never been one of my father's prevalent qualities, and I've always accepted him anyways.

His hometown, Forkson is a small village and is relatively quiet considering that it is situated just outside Terra, the capital city of Gaillenia. I can understand what attracted him to Forkson. It's situated in a quiet wooded area, there's a small populace, thus little conflict, but exotic figures headed to Terra tend to pass through so there still is some sort of work for a sheriff to be involved with. I personally have never been to the capital city, but I've heard it's a site to see. Gaillenia literally means "a land of calm" but apparently our kingdom's capital city is the exact opposite of calm. Terra is the center of academics and the arts in our beloved kingdom. The King and Queen highly value learning and encourage all inhabitants to seek an education and voice their opinions on how we believe the kingdom should function. It is rumored that the King himself is not only talented in diplomacy, but in the arts and even in the medical field. How extraordinary it must be to be a man who is both a King and a physician! If only all people could be as open-minded. Although I know little of them personally, the King and Queen are merciful and just. Since their reign, Gaillenia has not gone to war with our nearby neighbors. I praise the Lord that I am able to live during such peaceful and prosperous times in our kingdom. I hope that someday I can-

"Bella?" Rene's quip breaks my reverie. "Can you come back to reality for a few minutes and eat your last supper with your loving mother before your journey?"

I realize that I had been staring out the window throughout the meal and had neglected my food.

"Forgive me mother," I quickly said while shoving some food into my mouth, then look out the window for something to comment on as an excuse, "I was only admiring the lovely weather we were having." I mentally cringed at my choice of topics. There is nothing more boring than talking about the weather.

"Yes, well enough about that," Renee says while waving her hand dismissively, "Are you all packed and ready for tomorrow?"

Tomorrow I was leaving for my father's house in Forksen for my annual visit. I swallow my food and nod.

"Yes mother," I smile.

"Did you make sure to pack your new dress?"

"Yes."

"And your grandmother's pearl necklace?"

"Yes."

"And the rose brooch Sir Philipe brought back for you from France?"

"Yes Mother" I sigh exasperated, "I have packed everything you wrote on all the lists you made for me 3 weeks ago. I promise I have forgotten nothing. I have even made you a list of different recipes for supper, a list of events coming up you need to prepare for, and a list of addresses of all the ladies from your sewing club so that you can correspond with them while I'm gone."

"Oh darling," Renee frowns, small tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes, "What am I going to do without you?"

Nothing different, I silently muse. She'll find a bundle of things to do that will all involve neglecting the estate and taking advantage of my absence to rush away to cheer on Sir Philippe.

"You'll be just fine Mother," I state while finishing up my supper. "I'm gone for only the summer, same as last year."

"I suppose..." she sighs and looks up at the clock. I follow her gaze.

"Well, look at the time! I'm going to head to bed early. I've got a long journey ahead of me tomorrow." I grin.

"Yes, well goodnight darling." Renee calls as I rush to the kitchen clean my dish.

"Goodnight Mother!" I call when I finish and scurry up to my room as quickly as I can, avoiding any last minute remarks she might come up with.

Fortunately I wasn't kidding about the long-journey part. It's true that Sir Philippe's estate is a good few days journey from Forksen and I did need my rest. Sometimes the truth does happen to make the best excuse to avoid unwanted conversation!

After my preparations for bed, I slipped on my silk nightgown and crawled into bed. The moment my head hit the pillow I was instantly asleep and dreaming of tomorrow's promising journey to Forksen.


End file.
